I realized the other day that I hadn't had Jack-in-the-Box Tacos for 50 years. The last time was 1962, when I met my future wife. See came from a part of the country that didn't have JitB or tacos and wanted to try them. I had already sworn off them as vile and disgusting, but joined in with her. Never again for 50 years, until In a fit of nostalgia we thought we'd try them the other day.
I don't know if they've changed during the 50 years in between, but it turns out they are still as horrible as 1962 -- a shell that tastes like a hybrid of cardboard, corn and plastic, with a skid-mark of some partially meat-like substance smeared inside. This is clamped shut and deep-fried until vulcanized, then pried open with a tire iron and a bit of synthetic cheese and lettuce is forced inside.
We took the remainders home for the dog, but he took one sniff, looked at us like we were trying to poison him, and walked off -- and this from an animal that licks his own butt.
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